We Had No Bags of Grass
by Barley Shadow
Summary: (Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.) Since there are a lot of FaL fans out there, here's what happens to Duke and Ema after they return from Washington, when they can't find any grass.
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

"The outlook is beak."

"Don't you mean the outlook is bleak?" Ema says, lighting up a cigarette.

"I know what I mean!" I reply, looking out the window at the giant chicken.

If I had known then, the next time I'd be looking at a giant chicken, I'd probably have stayed there and looked a lot longer.

-----

It wasn't too long after me and Ema had come back from Washington, and we'd pretty much emptied our supply from there. Sure we stopped in bars and hotels in California and picked up a free tab or what have you, but we hadn't bought anything, and we didn't have much left.

Back on the road, "On the road again," I sing as we cruise down the freeway. "On the road again!"

I pull over to the side of the road and Ema leans back to open the case.

"Alright, we got," she pauses, holding up a brown bottle. "No ether, no grass, we got one acid tab! We could go halves?" At the time desperate for something, anything, I agree, although it was a little disappointing.

-----

We'd just been out for a drive, maybe gone a little bit further than we should of, you know how it goes, when you're seventeen, first love, ect etc. First love? Wow, I was beginning to talk shite without the aid of anything illegal.

Ema was a friend, albeit a very attractive friend, but right now she was just a friend. She was also seven or eight years my junior, not that that would matter in a loving and stable relationship. But we didn't have a loving relationship, apart from platonic love, oooooh, look at me using big words, man! Nor would it be stable.

-----

The next morning we spent in a diner in North California, cheap and cheerful, although I was either in a bad mood, got out of bed on the wrong side, or was just low and miserable.

I sullenly ordered a drink with many colored E-numbers to try and gain a little happiness, but this plan sadly backfired.

We sat outside in the parking lot, relaxing in the car.

"Its been fifteen hours," I tell Ema.

"Since what?"

"Since we shared the acid. I've got-" I fumble around in my pockets, "Twenty seven dollars," counting a few loose quarters.

How hard could it be to find something? George Jung was wandering about the beaches of California selling his wares and we couldn't find anything? What was wrong with the world? Sure had changed since the 60's.

So, sitting in that parking lot we came to realize, we hadn't found anything in this neck of the woods, we'd have to go elsewhere. I take my feet down from the steering wheel, and turn on the gas.

"Where we heading?" Ema asks.

"We're going on a roadtrip, to wherever we need to," I say, putting the car in gear and backing out.

Not far from the diner we stop, and collectively count all the money we had. Which came to a grand total, of twenty seven bucks. At this rate we'd have to sing on street corners for spare coins. But if the worst came to the worst, I had a pretty good singing voice.

We got onto a main road, we were crusing along when I vaguely wondered about something. I leaned over to the passenger side, clicked the dash open and took out the fly-swatter. My old friend.


	2. Chapter Two

_**A/N: **Soooooo sorry this has taken years and years to do. . . school and everything. Although, it is the Christmas holidays and I got no school til the 5th of January, so I'm gonna try and get this finished. There's gotta be some grass around here somewhere!_

**Chapter Two**

It took us nearly a day, but we managed to get into Nevada. Of course, it took us a day so we could stop and ask for grass, what the fuck is wrong, man? There is no grass _anywhere!_

As we got into Nevada, I was beginning to see things. Like billboards and all over the roadside, _grass, ether, cocaine, mescaline, acid, _the list went on and on. As we stopped at the sixth stop and came away empty handed, I thought I saw a pattern.

Then Ema helpfully tells me there are no such signs, and this was a hallucination. It was a bad one. No grass? No ether? No cocaine, mescaline, acid?

Wait, a hallucination without the aid of drugs? Was I crazy? Maybe. We headed into the seventh stop.

"Hello-" I gaze at the boys name tag. "Juan." I pause. "Juan, my good man! I am looking for, some, grass, would you happen to know where I can find a field?" He looks a little confused. No grass? I know the feeling.

"A field?" he manages to croak.

"A FIELD!" I inquire politely, slamming my fist on the checkout.

"I don't know no fields sir," he says.

"No fields? Are you useless? You are useless!"

He looked a little baffled.

"Come on Ema, we need to find a cow!"

As soon as we got to the door, a great Stetson-wearing Texan came in, I coward in fright, for a moment. Then said,

"Excuse me sir, do you know where we could find some milk?" He did look a little genuinely confused for a moment, then pointed over to a refridgerator clearly labelled 'dairy produce,' and suggested we try over there.

It was obvious to me that the white liquid stuff in plastic containers was not milk, so to avoid hurting his feelings we quietly went out the back way, and got into the car.

-----

As we trailed further into Nevada, again, we went from diarys to quantum physics. Not that either of us knew piss about quantum physics. And neither did the poor soul we asked about it.

Not that we just talked crap, I'm not one for glorifying drug use, I had a horrible headache, Ema passed out a while, and I did feel downright rotten. But I think that was because it was now forty eight hours since we shared a tab of acid. Yup, forty eight, hours, and couting.

For a while, I couldn't even drive. I mean, I could drive, but we'd swerved off the road three or four times, so we spent a leisurely two hours sitting in the car in silence, still as statues.

Amazingly, when I started the car again, I was in good spirits. I haven't felt good while being clean for a long time; not that I had much experience of being clean or anything. But Ema was laughing, we were driving a hundred miles an hour down an open road, and life felt good.

-----

Driving through the deserts of Nevada, we found ourselves coming pretty close to Las Vegas. 'I wonder how the old place is?'

"You remember Las Vegas?" I ask Ema. Fuck, she wasn't at Las Vegas, stupid stupid brain scrabbled with no cocaine. I felt my body calling out for it. "Cocaaaaaine! Cocaaaaaaaaaaaaine!"

And I found that as we approached the Strip, things began to get a bit blurry, I saw Gonzo, fuck I thought he was dead? Kicked the bucket, pushing up daises, there's something wrong with me, I can't think of any more expressions. It was daylight but I saw the lights, the chips, the heights of Las Vegas.

I sighed as we got through to the other side, as if in a dream.

I soon realized I _was _in a dream because Ema was slapping me with the hard end of the fly-swatter and we'd haphazardly driven off the road into the sand. Over the sand. Oh alright! And _I'd_ driven haphazardly off the road into the sand.

I got out to have a look at the mess. Sure the car would start, but it wouldn't move.

"You're gonna have to get out and push," I told Ema, she looked out from the front seat.

"Push?" she asked. I nodded, and made a pushing action into the air. She jumped out of the car, slapped the trunk as she came by which gave an almighty _crrrrrrang! _

We pushed. And nothing happened. Oh, I'd collapsed. We pushed again, nothing, I was beginning to sweat, pushing in Las Vegas was like pushing in the desert. Oh.

"Come on, one last time, we're nearly there, when you feel it next, you're doing great, one last push," I encouraged Ema. We pushed. And the car obideiently get back onto the road, and rolled maybe fifty feet. I looked a little confused.

"This is a flat road right?" I asked Ema.

"Sure," she shouted back, running to catch up with the car.

Las Vegas sure wasn't what it used to be. . .


End file.
